Mila Kilgore Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Diego

Ain’t all glitz, though—some of these chicks, they’re ghosts, man. Saw one near the docks, eyes dead, and I’m thinkin’, “This ain’t no life.” Movie’s got that scene, doc askin’, “What do you see?”—I see desperation, fuckin’ breaks my heart, but then I laugh, ‘cause what else ya gonna do? You wanna find a prostitute? Easy—hit the streets, look for the strut, the hustle. They’re everywhere, hidin’ in plain sight, like fuckin’ ninjas. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but shit, it feels that way when you’re cruisin’ late night, seein’ ‘em pop outta nowhere.

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The city pulses down by Willow Creek Park. I chill there, thinking deep thoughts. That park’s a gem. Kinda magical. Over the creek, you’ll see a faded sign on 5th Avenue. It’s a piece of the past – a reminder that memories fade. Reminds you of Memento’s cryptic nature: “I can’t remember how.”

MaryAnn Kilgore 1947-2025